So tonight’s my last night being eighteen years old.
I don’t know why nights like this always seems so important to me. Every day gone is different. I’ll never have October 11th, 2011 back, so why is October 12, 2011 any different? A year is only 365 days long because humans decided that it was. The day and night are really the only measurements of time that is built into nature. The rest of it is all decided by us.
I know this, and yet I’m still always sad to see it go. I wasn’t prepared to turn eighteen. I never really felt old enough to be eighteen. And tomorrow I’m going to be nineteen.
I don’t understand.
In so many ways, I still wish I was 14 years old. I hated how people were, and I hated how I was treated, but I was taken care of in so many different ways. I had so much more freedom. You think that the older you get, the more freedom you get, but in some ways it really doesn’t feel that way. You also have so much more responsibility that it almost creates more barriers.
I’m still really lucky now, though. I have a wonderful roommate who cares so much about me, and a fantastic boyfriend who has been bending over backwards to take care of me, especially in these past couple of days. Some people my age are really alone, and I’m not. Sometimes I feel like I am, but honestly, it’s just because I’m melodramatic and make things out to be so much worse than they actually are. I also have the best mom in the world who is doing the best she can to help me, even from the other side of the country.
So really, in this case, age is just a number. I’m not going to be any “older” tomorrow than I am today. The number that I call myself may change, but I’m really not going to be any different yet.